Does Anyone Really Know Where They're Going

How Easy It Is To Tell Tales!

La Poe Sie Veutquelque Chose D'e Norme, Debarbare Et De Sauvage. Poetry Needs Something On The Scale Of The Grand, The Barbarous, The Savage.

It Is Raining Bombs On The House Of The Lord. I Go In Fear And Trembling Lest One Of These Terrible Bombers Gets Into Difficulties.

Oh! How Near Are Genius And Madness! Men Imprison Them And Chain Them, Or Raise Statues To Them.

Which Is The Greater Merit, To Enlighten The Human Race, Which Remains Forever, Or To Save One's Fatherland, Which Is Perishable?